Metanoia
by AdAbolendam
Summary: "Dying isn't hard, May," he muttered. "You lived for S.H.I.E.L.D., even after it broke you."


**Content: Just a lil ficlet taking place a few weeks after the Season 3 finale. Daisy is still around, but Coulson's having some serious compunctions about his role as director.**

 **Disclaimer: All characters are the property of the Marvel/Disney complex, of which I am not a part. Thanks for letting me play with your toys during hiatus, guys!**

* * *

It was late in the evening when Melinda May finally made her way down the long hall towards her quarters. She glanced at her watch.

9:17 pm.

"Hmm," she hummed in surprise. It seemed later. The days felt like they went on forever since Lincoln's death.

His sacrifice had effectively eliminated the threat of Hive and his "Primitives" experiment and there was no eminent crisis on the horizon. However, in the wake of the near-apocalyptic scenario, she and the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. team had been called in to testify to the A.T.C.U. on their involvement. A warhead had been stolen from the United States military, after all. Several members of the extremist hate-group, The Watchdogs, had gone missing, transformed into Primitive Inhumans. Someone had to be held accountable.

Dr. Holden Radcliffe was taking much of the blame, and rightly so, to May's mind. She knew better than to hope that he would get much more than a slap on the wrist in the long-run though. Between his obsequious personality and army of lawyers, Radcliffe would live to fight another day.

More's the pity.

The man was brilliant, but he was also a fanatic and an ego-maniac.

He and Stark would get on well, May mused. The Tony Starks and Holden Radcliffes of this world put her on edge. Their drive to push technology and human physiology to its limits occasionally yielded incredible results. But for every Iron Man, there was an Ultron. Neither of which had made their jobs at S.H.I.E.L.D. any easier.

As the last few weeks had melded into an endless stream of reports, hearings and regrouping from their losses, the mood at the Playground was grim.

The minute they got the "All Clear" from the A.T.C.U., Fitz and Simmons had hopped in a jet to the Seychelles. Coulson could hardly protest their vacation request. Neither had taken a holiday since the team was assembled three years ago. (No one counted Simmons's time on Maveth as a "break.") He had still sighed heavily as the two scientists left the hanger, duffel bags packed, promising to send postcards. FitzSimmons were the only real source of cheer left at the base.

Mack helped Alana with her recovery. Her ability to move faster than light had robbed her of any semblance of patience. The frustration she felt at the slow pace of her convalescence was palpable to anyone in her proximity. Luckily for both of them, Mack had the patience of a saint. May just hoped he had the stamina to match. It would be at least another two weeks until she was combat-ready again.

And then there was Daisy.

May sighed.

Poor, screwed-up Daisy.

She came to a halt in the corridor. The light was still on in the Director's Office. May rolled her eyes. What was he doing working this late? He needed to rest as much as any of them.

She knocked on the door and went in without waiting for a response.

"What are you still doing up?"

Coulson looked up from a file and blinked at her.

"Just wanted to finish the rest of this report before my deposition with the A.T.C.U. tomorrow."

May leaned against the back of a leather-bound chair and crossed her arms.

"It's a hearing," she corrected. "Not a deposition. No one is 'deposing' you."

"That's not what it seems like," he said. "At least they haven't traced the missile-launch code snafu back to us. If we can leave Talbot's name out of this, I think he'll back off on registering the Inhumans on our team."

"Small blessings," she muttered.

Coulson wiped a hand across his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We'll take what we can get."

May nodded in agreement.

Coulson reached down to the cupboard beneath his desk and pulled up a bottle of scotch and two glasses. She accepted the pro-offered drink and pulled up a chair to face him.

"How is she?" He asked.

No need for elaboration there. They both knew who he meant.

"The same," May answered.

"Is she taking her meds?"

Before Simmons had left, she had prescribed a high dose of antidepressants for Daisy, ostensibly for counteracting her depleted dopamine levels. Daisy was not naïve enough to buy that excuse. After protesting repeatedly that she deserved to feel this way, May had finally sat her down to snap her out of it.

"How is feeling miserable helping you or anyone else?" She had asked. "Do you think that this is what Lincoln would want? Do you think this is why he died? So you could spend the rest of your life in pain?"

Daisy had looked down at her hands.

"You want to make things right? You have to get better first. Take the pills, Daisy."

"She says she is," May answered Coulson's question. "It's just as likely she's cheeking them. According to Simmons, we should have seen an improvement by now."

"I don't know what else to do for her," Coulson admitted. "I've tried leaving her alone, tried talking to her… she doesn't hear me."

"She hears you," May countered him gently. "She's just not ready to listen. These things take time."

He peered at her over the rim of his glass.

"Yeah, I know."

She knew what they were both thinking. "Time" for May had meant five years in exile in Administration. How long would it take Daisy to overcome her guilt? May did not stay in the field after Bahrain. What made them think that Daisy would be any different?

"Are we wrong to keep her here?" Coulson asked.

May looked down at her hands. There was not an easy answer to that.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't what it used to be, Phil," she said. "We don't have the luxury of transferring her to Communications in the Triskelion or the Hub, or giving her a supervised leave-of-absence. She doesn't have any family besides us. I don't know what our other options are at this point."

"So we wait," he summarized.

May nodded.

Coulson loosened his tie and drained the remainder of his drink. He glanced at the unfinished paperwork on his desk and closed the file, conceding defeat for the night.

"Bed?" May asked.

"Just a minute," he answered. "While you're here, there's something else I need to talk to you about."

She placed her glass on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. He was hesitating. This was something big. May felt a familiar twinge in her stomach. She did not think she could take any more bad news today.

"When the hearings are over and the A.T.C.U. has cleared us of any responsibility, I'm resigning as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What?"

May's response was barely a whisper. The wind had been completely knocked out of her like a gut-punch. Worse. A hit to the gut she could handle. This was… what the hell was this? Coulson not Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Was he _quitting_? Leaving her to clean up this mess by herself? How dare he? After all they had been through?

"Daisy's not the only one with mistakes to atone for," Coulson said. "This was my fault. The Primitives, Hive, Lincoln's death, it all comes back to me."

"Phil," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Don't."

"If I hadn't killed Ward—

"Then I would have!" She interrupted. "Or Hunter, or Bobbi! We had planned to take Ward out for months. You were the only one who got the job done."

"Out of revenge," he said softly. "It wasn't a calculated assassination with a bullet. I crushed the life out of him with my hands. I failed as a Director, May. I let a personal vendetta get in the way of doing my job and we have all paid for it."

"So how does your resignation fix that?" May snapped. "You have red in your ledger? Fine. You work to wipe it out. You don't quit."

"I'm not quitting," he said softly. "I am working to wipe it out. I'm making the best decision I can as Director: putting someone in charge that will steer S.H.I.E.L.D. back on course. Someone who knows where the line is and won't cross it for personal reasons. Someone I can trust. You, May."

She studied his face looking for signs of insincerity.

"You're serious," she stated.

"All this time I've been acting as the moral compass for this agency, but I should have been looking to you," he said. "I _have_ looked to you. But when my own agenda got in the way of duty, I ignored your advice. Every time I did, things have gone from bad to worse."

She shook her head.

"That's not true."

"Maybe not entirely," he conceded. "But there are a lot of things I would have done differently."

He paused, seeming to consider.

"Theta protocol," he said. "I should have told you from the beginning."

May sighed. She had moved past that particular incident and it was not a point in their friendship that she liked revisiting.

"You were following orders," she said, giving him an out.

"Suggestions," Coulson corrected. "Fury was a consultant, not the Director. The truth is, I didn't tell you because… because I was hurt about TAHITI and I wasn't ready to trust you again."

She could feel the muscles working in her jaw. This was an invitation to go down a rabbit hole of regrets and apologies that she had no desire to repeat. She had no compunctions about her involvement in TAHITI, save for the pain it had caused him. He was right not to trust her afterwards. He trusted her now. That was all she needed to know.

"That was a year ago, Coulson," she said. "Don't tell me you're giving me your job as an apology."

That, at least, brought a small smile to his face.

"No, I'm giving you my job because it should have been yours to begin with," he said. "I thought I had conviction, belief, in S.H.I.E.L.D., May, but it pales in comparison with yours."

May could not help but snort softly in disbelief.

"Phil, you _died_ in the line of duty!"

"Dying isn't hard, May," he muttered. "You _lived_ for S.H.I.E.L.D., even after it broke you. You worked to make it better. You've always done your job, no matter what the personal costs. Even after Bahrain, even after that crazy Aussie killed Andrew. You didn't go off mission and kill him out of spite."

"I hit him," she offered.

"Good," he answered. "The point is, the team needs someone to look up to, someone who they trust, to lead them on the right path. That's not me anymore."

May let out a long breath and stared at him, considering.

"And you?" she asked. "What does this mean for you?"

"I'll defer to your decisions," he said.

"Really." She deadpanned.

"Well," he hedged. "There might be an awkward transition period. I might put up the occasional protest."

"Mmm-hmm, "she said skeptically.

"But so have you, from time-to-time."

"You really expect me to send you out into the field, without me to watch your back?"

"Of course not," he said. "Like you said, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s not what it used to be. I don't expect you to stay behind a desk. But we have Mac and Alana, Joey too, if we need him. I won't be alone."

"And Daisy," she added.

"Maybe," he admitted. They knew that her future with S.H.I.E.L.D. was tenuous at best.

"Phil," May started. "I think you should really think about this. Think about what you'd be giving up."

"I have," he said. "I've thought about it for a long time, starting back with that mess with Gonzales. I made up my mind when Hive came to Earth. It has to be you, Melinda. You're the only person I trust more than I trust myself."

Something in her chest constricted and ached at hearing those words. Torn between pity for his loss of faith in himself and gratitude that he would put so much trust in her, she was at a loss of what to say.

"You don't have to answer now," he amended.

"I'll do it," she said. "For you. If this is what you need, then I'll do it."

"Thank you."

Silence hung over them and she leaned forward in her chair, taking her time getting to her feet.

"Don't expect me to go easy on you," she said, to diffuse the tension.

Coulson smiled.

"I'd be disappointed if you did."

May took that as her queue to leave. She crossed the room with decisive steps, but hesitated as she turned the doorknob.

"Phil," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "You may not trust yourself, but I do. I always have."

His answering smile was sad and didn't reach his eyes.

"Thanks, Melinda."

She closed the office door behind her and felt as though the weight of the world had been placed squarely on her shoulders. As long as he was still with her, she could bare it. She had to remember to be thankful for the small blessings, now more than ever.

* * *

 **A.N.: A few times now, Clark Gregg has said in interviews that "in a perfect world" May would make the best choice as the new Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Well, it's not a perfect world, but until the Season 4 premiere, I can dream!**


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